


Good Out Of The Bad

by GayBaconPrincess



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Embarrassing Nicknames, Fluff, Gay Male Character, Joey was a little shit as a child, M/M, Mental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Slade Wilson needs Therapeutic Help, Unbelievable Fluff, along with the rest of his family tbh, future Au where joey lives but he's still a lil screwed up, joey's a mess and everyone is outdone with him, mainly in Joey's case, major PTSD, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 19:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13724469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayBaconPrincess/pseuds/GayBaconPrincess
Summary: ...This is just shameless coping, if I'm being honest. This is me listening to songs in my playlists and writing small oneshots for them. Featuring the honorary Titans, HIVE Five, and Wilson Angst, probably.





	1. Dear Happy (Jericho/Kyd Wykkyd)

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been going through...a lot lately. A lot of bad things keep happening, and it doesn't seem like it's letting up anytime soon. So, to cope, I've been listening to songs and writing mini fics for them. Every chapter in here will be based off of a song on my playlist, and I'll have the song here in the description. So, enjoy. Also, since this is more coping than it is serious writing (in hindsight a lot of this is serious writing anyway, a lot of it's sad, idk) none of it has been proofread so, sorry.
> 
> The song for this chapter is Dear Happy by Dodie Clark ft. Thomas Sanders.
> 
> This chapter is so unbelievably fluffy compared to the others, sorry.

Joey sighed in the old, worn booth of the cafe he sat in, drumming his fingers and creating a low beat on the table he was leaned on. He hated the wait, he hated the anxiousness and the steady increase and drop of his heart like it couldn't decide whether to feel guilty or excited.

Joseph had run through his entire life in a sort of plan. Whenever things happened that weren't according to what he'd planned, they usually ended up being disastrous. He never planned for Jackal, or to realize who his father really was. It was one of the many reasons he was so jumpy and skittish around the English Titans division even after so long of living with them in London. Being a Titan meant that his plan was to have no plan. As thrilling as being a Teen Titan was - being an entire ocean away from his father, being allowed to finally make decisions for himself, being looked up to by an entire country of people - he needed a break sometimes.

That sometimes was once a week - every Friday night at exactly eight o'clock sharp. Joseph never missed the deadline, not even once, since he'd first gotten involved with his little mockingbird (oh how his lover hated that nickname, but he endured it since Joseph had taken such a liking to it).

Every Friday night, Jericho would come up with some type of excuse to his team so they wouldn't check on him for the rest of the night, leaving him free to dress in his civilian disguise and sneak out of the Tower. He would make his way toward a cafe named 'Destiny's', and he would always make it there at exactly eight o'clock. By that time his mockingbird would already be in his civilian clothes as well, usually in the same corner booth he was always in. Joey made sure to sit on the opposite end of the cafe, as far as possible, but so that they were facing each other and Joseph didn't feel completely alone.

They would both wait until every person had cleared out of the cafe, and then his lover would give the signal by leaving a single black box inconspicuously in front of Joey (it usually contained a note, sometimes a small gift of flower petals that were Joey's favorite color). By the time Joey would look up from the box, his lover would have seemingly disappeared, and Joey would be free to walk out of the cafe without people to see him and become suspicious of him chasing after a dark stranger.

Joey sat up straight from his leaned position and cracked his spine for a bit, growing much too anxious for everyone to just leave already, as rude as that sounded. It seemed that Joseph could be the most patient person in the world Saturday through Thursday, considering that the two lovebirds could only see each other one night per week due to distance and the needs that came with their job choices, and yet the mere fifteen to thirty minutes he had to wait every Friday night felt like a living nightmare that wouldn't ever end.

Joey cracked his neck too, finding it a bit stiff after leaning in the same position so long, before he excused himself to the men's restroom to hopefully calm some of his nerves and his growing frustration at the one man who just couldn't seem to realize that yes, his date had blown him off, and that he needed to just leave already so someone else's date could actually get off to a start.

Joey was relieved to find no one hiding out in the bathroom before he hurriedly splashed some of the sink water into his face. You waited six entire days for tonight, Joey told himself, you can wait eight more minutes.

Joey looked up at his reflection and immediately started to self consciously run a hand through his curly hair to make sure it wasn't knotted anywhere, he flattened down his light green T-shirt and his dust brown fluffy jacket that made him look much more tough than he actually was, and he nervously cracked his knuckles and bit his lip as a thousand mistakes whirred in his head per minutes.

You should've worn your other jacket, he likes that one better! You should've brushed your hair out more, you look like a mess! You should've put on some cologne, you smell like a pig from that training session Isaiah put you through!

Joey closed his eyes and shook his head as if he could physically shake the thoughts away from him. He opened his eyes and smiled into the mirror. It felt nice to be Joseph instead of Jericho.

Joseph liked this jacket, and his mockingbird had told him many a time about how adorable he looked in it. Joseph's hair was fine, and his mockingbird's favorite past time was to run his hands through it himself, anyway. Joey's mischievous little mockingbird often snuck into the tower when Joseph was sparring or working out while the others were gone, using the excuse of 'I missed you' to get away with ogling him and nuzzling into his very much sweaty neck.

Joey's waterlily (yet another embarrassing name he just barely got away with) had told him before that he personally thought Joey looked his best in the mornings, with his bad breath and messy hair and grumpy, confused drawl - so, all things considered, Joey thought he cleaned up pretty nice for date night.

Joey finally walked out of the restroom, bursting into a large beam at the black box that was sitting on his table.

God, you are insufferable, a small note inside the box read, who the hell wears khakis to a date? Joey, of course, knew he was only teasing, as he found a small waterlily petal inside the box with a heart cut out of the center.

Joey breathed out a relaxed, relieved sigh to find no one in the cafe besides the worker, and he walked out of the cafe only to duck into an ally right next to it, where his flower would always place the portal for Joey to walk through so they could sneak away.

Joey walked blindly into the darkness, trusting his lover infinitely enough to do so, and found that the darkness moved and morphed until he was standing on a forest path that was lightened by the moon's pale glow, the bare trees around him mingling with the full ones, seeming to hide him and his lover - wherever he was.

Speaking of, Kyd Wykkyd finally teleported into appearance out of nowhere and kissed Joey hungrily, his palms laying flat in the crook of Joey's neck and keeping him put so that Elliot had complete control over the kiss, his hands going from clawing to caressing when Joey laid his own hands on top of Elliot's pale ones. Joey had to look upwards just to kiss Elliot back due to their - admittedly difficult - height difference, though he didn't mind a bit. Elliot attempted to draw back to allow Joey to breathe, only for Joey to grab him by the waist and pull them even closer, kissing Elliot just as deeply as Elliot had kissed him.

Elliot would never, in a million years, admit it, but god, he went weak when Joey broke his normally timid behavior and did things like pull Elliot toward him by the waist or flirt shamelessly with him to ward off anyone who might mistake Elliot for single.

Joey finally stopped devouring Elliot's mouth to let him breathe.

"...I missed you." He said with a husky voice and a mischievous smile.

"...Yeah, I figured." Elliot replied with a scoff, his arms now just hanging limply around Joseph's neck, still close as ever to him considering Joey now seemed to have a vice grip on Elliot's skinny waist.

"You look nice." Elliot stated, leaning his forehead on Joey's and running a hand thoughtlessly through the back of his hair.

Despite the khakis? Joseph wanted to tease, though he bit his tongue to save the moment they were having.

"And you...look like a thug." Joey stated plainly at Elliot's appearance.

He wore the grey hoodie and the black leather jacket he always did, though since they'd left the cafe the hood was down and Joey could see that Elliot just barely brushed his hair and fit it into a hair tie (and Joey was worried about his own hair, sheesh). Elliot wore the tight black skinny jeans he almost always wore to their dates (that Joseph was infinitely appreciative of) and his black boots as always. He either looked like a second-rate thug or a future school shooter.

"I am a thug, sweetheart." Elliot said with an impish smile, ignoring the roll of Joey's eyes, who remembered that no matter how sweet the moment, Elliot wouldn't mind ruining it with his sass.

"C'mon," Elliot said, finally reaching behind his back to untangle Joey's grip from his waist. When had Joey's hands gotten that low? Elliot shook his head with a small blush before he untangled himself and wrapped his and Joey's fingers together in a hand-hold, already leading him through the path.

"I've got a surprise location for us to eat at." Elliot said with a wink, only for Joey to roll his eyes again.

They walked through the path for a bit, Joey rambling on about this new music piece he was working on and Elliot replying with dumb stories the HIVE had gotten into lately. After a few minutes of walking the came across the seperate portal Elliot had opened up to lead them to their "extremely perfect" dinner, as Elliot had put it.

Joseph walked through the portal with Elliot to find a table set up on the balcony of an extremely fancy looking restaurant, overlooking an even fancier looking town. Joey guessed that Elliot's chosen local for tonight was Paris, considering the enormous tower that stood proudly in the center of it all.

"You are the most extra person I know." Joey said flatly to the view.

"...Gee, thanks, hon. I'll remember that next time I take the time to set up a reservation, pay the place extra money to keep people away from us, take the energy out of my day to actually create the portal-" Elliot rambled.

"You're even more melodramatic than you are extra." Joey cut him off, hugging Elliot by the waist and standing on the tips of his toes to kiss his cheek. Elliot tried to hide it, but Joey knew he had a wide smile stretched across his face.

"...Yeah, yeah, whatever." Elliot mumbled before he hurriedly walked over to the table. Joey chuckled at the fact that even now, after so long of dating, Elliot was still extremely skittish and shy over just about any and all physical affection Joey gave him - which was a lot. Elliot was fine with giving Joey affection, considering he was in a constant state of being touch starved, but god forbid Joey kiss Elliot in public.

The evening ran smoothly, Elliot ordering some weird shrimp thing that Joey couldn't pronounce, and eventually just having Elliot order for him since he could barely read most of the menu. Over everything they could've talked about, they spent thirty minutes playfully arguing about whether the French should just call baguettes 'breadsticks' or continue with the word baguette. After that they slipped into their normal routine, which was Joey running his mouth off about anything and everything as Elliot listened with a lovesick gaze.

After the dinner, Elliot finally opened a portal for them. They stepped out of Paris and into Joey's room in Titans Tower, most of the Titans having gone to sleep by now.

Elliot sighed sadly as Joey refused to meet his eyes, knowing that eventually they had to say goodnight.

Just as Elliot was opening his mouth, Joey beat him to it.

"I drew some more in that sketch diary you got me. Would you look through it? I'd appreciate some...art critique." Joey lied shamelessly, trying so hard to stall Elliot from leaving just yet.

Elliot bit his lip, knowing he needed to go home before the rest of the HIVE woke up and started looking for him.

"Gh- Joey!" Elliot nearly shrieked as he found himself being lifted off the ground by his always surprisingly strong hero boyfriend.

"Just one drawing?" Joey said in a whiny voice, tightening his grip on the back of Elliot's thighs, Elliot completely red faced as he glared down at Joseph. Joey had picked him up so that he was now extremely taller than Joey, lifting him as if he weighed no more than a stem of grapes.

"Release me you heathen." Elliot hissed, more than embarrassed to be reminded how much stronger Joey was than him.

"Only if you stay!" Joey demanded.

Elliot groaned in defeat, soon finding himself being dropped carelessly on Joey's (consderably small) bed.

Eleven drawings and almost a full hour later, Elliot was very much still in Joey's room, and he was also very much not critiquing drawings anymore.

He and Joey laid cuddled up together on Joey's bed for the first forty-five minutes, Elliot genuinely getting interested by Joey's artwork as Joey more or less laid on top of him, his face buried in the crook of Elliot's neck as he boredly played with Elliot's hair tie. After that, Joey got bored and decided to yank on it, Elliot making a face and whipping his head so that his hair tie was resting on his other shoulder, away from Joey's yanking hands.

Joey smiled and got Elliot to turn around so he could give him an apology kiss, only for Joey to lean in for one more kiss, and then another, and another, until the sketchbook lay discarded on the floor as they outrightly made out on Joey's bed. Nothing heated, it was still, over everything, Joey shamelessly stalling so Elliot wouldn't leave just yet.

Finally, Elliot pulled a bit away from Joey, Joey pouting at the distance.

"...Please stay." Joey said in a small voice, already knowing the answer.

"...It's getting late, love." Elliot said sadly.

"...Six days. I love you." Elliot said, giving Joey one last kiss.

Joey closed his eyes and felt the skin underneath his hands turn cold until it was gone, opening them to find Elliot having teleported back to America.

Joey groaned sadly as he flopped himself over to the side Elliot was lain in, finding it still warm and comfortable.

On Elliot's side of the globe, he sighed at the morning dawn, looking sadly over to his phone and thinking for a moment about texting Joey. Just as he was typing though, Joey shot him the same text.

I miss you

Elliot smiled.

Until we meet again, love


	2. I Lived (Wilson Family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is "I Lived" by One Republic.

Deathstroke was a terrifying man. He was cunning, calculated, in control, he was the perfect assassin, showing no remorse and no hesitance. He was cold, cruel, and crafty. Deathstroke the Terminator showed no emotion, no weakness.

No one knew that Slade Wilson, behind the mask, had an emotional breakdown one day out of every year.

Today marked ten years - ten years, an entire decade - since he'd had his son ripped away from him in a flash of gunsmoke and steel.

Many men and women would fight for the idea that Slade Wilson had no more love left to give, that he had no heart, but they were all just as wrong as they were dead.

Slade Wilson loved his precious son with all of his shrunken, aging heart. After all these years, Slade had kept a careful, watchful eye on his son, Joseph. He knew about how absolutely miserable the poor boy must be on that mountain. Joseph hated him though, he had to. It was Slade's fault he'd had his vocal chords ripped away from him, it was Slade's fault he no longer had a home or a mother or a sibling.

So every year, on Joseph's birthday, marking the day he was stolen and robbed of something precious, Slade sat down in his living room with a small book and he sobbed over the loss of the only family he had left. Adeline hated Slade with a burning passion, Grant was gone now and forever, and Rose...well, he never saw Rose as anything more than an apprentice. She was never his daughter, only his successor.

But Joseph, his Joey, that was his son. That was the small, frail boy that tiptoed right on past the assortment of weapons Slade left carelessly on his bedroom floor with tears in his eyes, waking up his papa and begging him to scare away the monster in his closet. That was the fluffy-haired angel that would go up to Slade after a long day and hand him a large piece of construction paper that had a poorly drawn doodle of Slade and his son together on it, Joseph beaming despite Slade's chuckling at his son's inability to spell 'I hope you feel better' on the paper. That was the skinny little noodle of a boy that always broke into smiles and ran at Slade and hugged his legs when he surprised him by picking him up from kindergarten.

But Joseph was alone now. And he never smiled as much. Neither did Slade. Slade had money, he had power, he had respect, but he didn't have his family, or his happiness.

So here Slade Wilson sat, flipping through an old, worn out book filled with photos from his past and mourning the loss of his son.

There were so, so many things Slade wanted to say, but how on Earth would he say them now? His son had to hate him by now. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to tell his son how proud he was, he wanted to tell his son that he loved him, he wanted to remark on how alike he was to his father despite their moral differences, he wanted to say so much.

Slade often worried over Joey's obvious want to become a hero. Slade had seen it before - that burn in his son's emerald eyes when he was saved someone in the town below the mountains from a sad excuse for a thug. He just hoped on everything that his son wouldn't be hurt if he wasn't enough, or that they didn't accept him due to his heritage. Slade remembered that fire, that burning desire in his stomach to be somebody, to do something, to prove himself to the world. Slade felt that desire become a roaring phoenix once he finally got his chance to enroll in the military as a teenager. He eventually felt that desire flicker and die out along with his spirit once the testing began and his career as a soldier was cut much too short.

Slade worries over Joey's emotions. He's so open compared to Slade, so free. But that freedom comes with a price, as it always does. One day, he will be too open, too nice, and he'll be used. Someone, somewhere will hurt Joey, bad. And Slade just hopes over everything that Joey will be able to bounce back from it. Slade remembers feeling choked, feeling cut off from the world the day his mother died. He remembers shunning everyone away, he remember screaming and cursing out everyone as the sixteen year old monster of a teenager he was when it happened. He remembered forcing himself up with all of his will power, and forcing himself to move on. He'd had a wall up ever since, never daring to let anyone get that close to him emotionally ever again, not even Addie.

Slade came across a picture that he sighed at. It was Joey's first recital, and it was taken in the park across from the center where he'd played at because Joey had managed to get himself banned. And by god, Slade saw himself in that mischievous, prideful smile on his son's face as he posed with his guitar in that park, knowing for a fact that if Joey could've in that moment, he very well would've gotten banned twice. He'd been practicing for months with his school's music class, and they'd paid big money to rent out a center for the classical music they'd done. Each student would perform a classical piece in front of a huge audience. Joey would play a lovely symphony on the piano that he'd been memorizing for what felt like forever. Slade distantly remembered Joey hugging his legs and shaking in nervousness, seeming to immediately calm when Slade patted his head and gave him an encouraging smile. Little did Slade know that Joey wasn't nervous just because of the people, oh no, Joey was a little shit as a child. Joey marched right on up to the stage, rolled the piano off to the side, and pulled out his guitar that his papa had taught him how to play. He immediately went into a rendition of Guns N' Roses "Paradise City", shocking and enraging the flabbergasted parents at the rock music among all the other children's classical. Slade knew he should've been disappointed, but he laughed off his ass and he beamed like the proud father he was as Joey outrightly disobeyed his authority and continued to make the other children giggle and laugh in joy at his music taste. Joey was such an attention hog back then, and now...now he's a wallflower. Slade distantly remembers being like that himself as a child. No one knew, not even Adeline, nor Wintergreen, nor Joey, but Slade himself was in a rock band as a teenager, if only to piss of his own father. Slade grimaced to himself as he remembered the time he headbanged his way right off the stage and onto the cement ground, only to get right back up and keep playing as if it were part of the act.

Slade suddenly came across another picture that sent his heart into a whirlwind, along with an ache through his soul. It was a picture of a young Adeline and Slade, Adeline smiling bright as she leaned into Slade, who was unaware she was taking the picture. They were young, much younger than now, that much was obvious. This was before they were married. It was that special time when Slade was being tested on, when he was terrified of the world, and then Adeline Kane marched right up to him and told him to his face that he was a coward if he was ready to let the experiments on his body stop him. It was that wonderful time when Slade and Adeline were in the army - mature enough to be adults, and yet, had the bodies and age of terrified, dangerous teenagers. Slade went on and on about how much Joey was like him, but here Adeline was, showing off where Joey got the fluffy hair and the keen eyes and the sunshine smile. Slade wouldn't admit it, but he missed the woman who'd taken his eye with all his heart. He missed the teenage girl who'd picked Slade up from the bottom, who loved him with all her heart, and who put up with his bullshit until he more or less ruined her life. Slade hoped that for Joey. He hoped on everything that Joey fell so deeply in love with someone that it physically hurt him to be away from them. He hoped Joey too would feel the raw passion in finding the one person who would pick him up from nothing and make him whole. Love always hurt, but he hoped on everything that for Joey, he could take that hurt and make it better. Slade could easily turn pain into determination when it was physical, but as everyone knew now, he was so unbelievably bad with it in the emotional department. Joey could do both, Slade had seen it. Joey had been through so, so much, and yet he lived on despite the world's attempts to kill him.

Slade came across another picture, this time of an old friend. He'd gone missing god knows how many years ago. MIA? AWOL? No one knew, and Slade definitely didn't, but he remember this picture. They'd been riding in a train car to a different location, and they'd seen so many things along the way. Slade saw the most beautiful landscapes he'd ever seen in his life torn apart and destroyed by warfare. Slade remembered this picture and the memories that went with it, how he lived life as if he wanted death to try and stop him. Slade only hopes that Joey lives that way, with no care or worry other than 'what will stop me?'.

Slade wants so much for a son that he can't contact anymore. He wishes so much that he could get his son back. He wishes so much for Joey to just live with him again, so that they could be father and son, like they should be, like they used to be. He wants to be something in Joseph's life, wants to be a father again. He wants to see the explosive smile on Joseph's face at his best, and he wants to be there for Joseph's aching at his worst, just as Slade's father was for him. But he fucked that up royally, didn't he?

Slade wants Joey to live. He wants his son to live life until the very world lives in fear of Joseph Wilson's pure ambition. Slade knows it, Slade's seen it. He's seen Joey defy those unbelievably bigger than him with no fear for his own safety. He's seen Joey smile in the face of mourning. He's seen Joey fight every single thing that's stood in his way of a content life. He's been hurt, obviously, but he stood alive and well in Tibet.

Slade slammed the book shut and looked down at the paper in his hands. He slipped it into an envelope and he breathed out a shaky sigh, making his way into the kitchen to stamp it. He needed this, his son needed this, his son deserved to at least know his father was sorry. Slade had written down every thought he'd had since he'd opened the godforsaken book, and he was going to get it to Joseph if it was the last thing he did.

As Slade looked for a stamp, something caught his eye in the trash. Slade immediately threw away all letters he got, whether they be bills or genuine worry from distant friends of the past. He could easily take care of either if they got in his way. But Slade saw a letter that had smudged ink and a name that make his heart stop.

Slade dropped his own letter, along with a few silent teardrops as he daintily lifted the letter out of the trash as if it were a sign from god.

It was a letter written in beautiful curly handwriting from his son, Joseph Wilson, addressed to Slade. Slade cradled the letter to his large chest for a moment, knowing this was a turning point, this was a sign from god. Slade used a pocket knife to get the seal of the envelope open.

Slade Wilson smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have written Slade as a little out of character, but oh well. I can sacrifice that for the sake of Joey getting a Better Dad.


	3. Heart Shaped Box (Punk Rocket/Jericho)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song here is "Heart Shaped Box" by Nirvana, one of my favorite bands and song. I don't know why, but Joey's always made me think of Nirvana songs? Anyway, this is kind of a 90s Grunge/Normal Teenagers AU.

Thomas himself didn't fully understand why he kept doing this. He fought tooth and nail with his uncle to let him out of the house either way, but he knew this always ended in pain, so why did he go?

Thomas Leonard was just like every other snot nosed teenager growing up in the suburbs of an American country that stank of cigarette smoke and the dreams of forgotten high school burnouts. He was the smallest bit different, of course, but no one cared. You wouldn't notice unless you sat and you spoke and you befriended Thomas, and to do that, you had to let go of the superiority complex going around of 'I can't stoop low enough to speak to a junkie' - which, he might add, he was not.

Thomas was different in many ways, they were just hard to spot among the crowd of a million and one other teenagers desperately clutching to find a way to make themselves different as well. Thomas was from England, for one, and you could only really tell if you spoke with him and translated through his horrifically thick accent. Thomas was also a bit weird physical-appearance wise. Bleached white hair that was spiked every which way, enough piercings to make it look like someone had thrown a tackle box at his face, burning, red eyes and a conniving, confident smile that just dared someone in authority to speak down to him. Then there were his political and moral views, of course. That's what really set him apart. Thomas held steadfast to his views and he would fight for them, and he was seen as the weird kid, the rocker, the "Punk Rocket" as everyone at his school nicknamed him.

No one knew who Thomas really was, especially not his family or school mates. Maybe that's why Thomas shuffled his way over to the same tattered van every night.

Joey Wilson had dropped out of high school about one year ago, and when he was in high school it wasn't as if he had many friends. He was just as outcasted as Thomas, and that's why when Joey did go, they stuck to each other like glue. They had the same morals, the same views, the same infernal hatred for the same political figures, the only real difference was that Thomas was the son of an everyday English immigrant, where Joseph was the son of a big time company's manager.

Thomas first approached Joey out of pure intrigue. Joey and his father had a surplus of money, and if Joey wanted he could dress better than any one of the preppy girls that attended their school. But no, Joey bought low grade skinny jeans with rips and holes, a pair you could probably find at your local discount store. He walked around with bracelets that he'd made out of an old, worn bicycle chain that would no longer turn. He choked himself on cigarettes that were a dime a dozen, disgusting, putrid tasting that Thomas himself couldn't even smoke.

After Thomas and Joey became friends, they'd shared a lot with each other. Joey introduced Thomas to what were some of his favorite musical figures now, and Joey did something no one had ever done for Thomas in his life - he listened. He genuinely listened and gave genuine advice to Thomas, and truth be told, Joey was the reason Thomas had gotten in a considerably lower number of fights that year.

After Joey had dropped out, he left home and started living in his van. Despite the initial horror that came with thinking about living all alone in a rusty old van, Joey made a decent living. He sold his art and with the money he lived fairly well. Joey was content with his lifestyle - he loved it, even - Joey loved never being told what to do, how to dress, what kind of job he needed to have. He made enough money on his own to buy food, gas, clothes, and concert tickets, and Joey was honestly content with living like he did. He had everything he needed, and he never wanted for anything more.

Visiting Joey was like an escape for Thomas. Stepping into that van that was infinitely bigger inside that outside was like stepping into another world with no homophobia, no racism, no sexism, not even an argument on which music station played the best. Joey and Thomas thought alike, and considering how small Joey kept his inner circle, Thomas was appreciative of Joey allowing him in his van.

Anytime Thomas was feeling bored or stressed or strung out, he'd knock on Joey's car door and Joey would let him in. They'd lay opposite of each other on the floor, music playing in the front, at least four different lava lamps lighting up the van as Thomas spilled out about everything weighing on his heart that day for Joey to drink in and try to help with. There had been a lot said in that van that Thomas knew would never leave it, there was a lot done in that van as well.

Thomas sighed as he spotted the old van and started making his way toward it.

Everyone though Joey Wilson was absolutely insane - and they thought Thomas was just as crazy for hanging around him all the time. Everyone wrote Joey off as a burnout, not knowing that he'd never touched a drug in his life. But Joey was a damn genius, at least to Thomas.

It seemed like no matter how badly Thomas didn't want to go back, he always did. Thomas wanted Joey - wanted him more than anything. He didn't just want him in the sexual, high rise of the moment way, either. Thomas wanted Joey's soft, stretched out smile. Thomas wanted the bite of Joey's lips and the sway of his hips when his favorite song came on the radio. He wanted the soft rubbing of even softer skin up and down his arm when Thomas felt like he wanted to cry, when Joey would console him even when he didn't completely understand the problem.

Thomas couldn't pinpoint when it started. Maybe it was the first day they met, that day when Joey had punched him in the jaw hard enough to send him sprawling for picking a fight with a friend of his, Mal. Maybe it was that one time in the van, when Joey had simply stated that he wanted to try something, and then kissed Thomas like he was the center of the world, only to act like it'd never happened the next day. Maybe it was the first time Thomas had accompanied Joey to a concert, with Joey all dolled up in leather and steel toe boots to match the rest of the band's crowd.

Thomas knew he couldn't have Joey, that's why he hated coming back to him all the time. And yet here Thomas stood, on the blonde boy's doorstep. That's all they ever were or every would be, an experimental fling. Whatever happened in the van stayed in the van, for better or worse. That included Joey's quick quips of 'I want to try something, hold still', followed by Thomas' inability to stop him from kissing Thomas until he felt light headed.

Thomas felt locked in, trapped, and it was the only thing he couldn't tell Joey, not for the world.

Joey yelled at Thomas that the door was open, Thomas stepping in with a smile at the familiar scent of a thousand and one candles and the even more so familiar tune to Joey's favorite blonde burnout singer, Kurt Cobain. Joey was much too invested in the radio to turn and look at Thomas.

Joey was swaying his hips slow and justified, his entire body moving around fluidly as if he were trying to mimic a lava lamp's movement, all as his eyes were closed and he got wrapped up in "All Apologies". Thomas couldn't tear his eyes away from that bliss filled expression or the defined curve of Joey's hips if he wanted to, and the familiar fence-patterned, silver heart necklace that bobbed and jangled wherever Joey moved seemed to have a vice grip on Thomas' own heart.

The ringing of Joey's phone interrupted the moment, Joey reaching over to turn the radio down as he answered the phone with a giddy, excited glee.

"Hey Dick! ...No, no, I'm not doing anything tonight." Joey said, his fingers crossed in hope that he'd be invited somewhere with his boyfriend tonight.

Thomas' smile and his faux excitement for Joey's date became bittersweet and melancholy in an instant.

No, Thomas Leonard would never have Joey. He'd never have his Josie with his small arms wrapped around his neck. He'd never have his hand held in Thomas' own- he'd never hear the ridiculous amount of praise Joey gave to his boyfriend directed at Thomas.

Thomas looked at Joey's smiling face, still talking on the phone, and he was trapped. Thomas was trapped in that van, trapped in that moment, locked in that oblivious boy's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, it helps me a lot and it reminds me to actually post on here instead of just Fanfiction.


	4. Kryptonite (Jericho/Kyd Wykkyd)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Kryptonite" by Three Doors Down. This takes place in a kind of future AU where Joey lives and I mess around with timelines.

Joey couldn't breathe, couldn't get anything but short, desperate gasps of air in his lungs. The voices, the words, they were too much. Too much! He screamed desperately in his head, Stop it! Stop it, please!

He was beginning to lose himself again, he was losing to the voices, to the villains, again.

Please, no! Not here, not now, not to him! Joey shrieked. His internal struggle soon became external, and he was violently screaming and throwing himself every which way, banging his head against the steel wall of the room he was in in a desperate, unorthodox way to make the voices stop.

Where was he? Why was in a steel room? Who was 'he'?

No! No, Joey couldn't lose himself now! He had to maintain himself! He didn't know why, but he knew he had to fight it. He was expected to...do...something.

"My name is Joseph William Wilson," Joey said to himself in the scattered, broken voice of a man lost.

"I am the son of Adeline Kane and Slade Wilson...I have two siblings...Their names are Grant and Rose Wilson…" Joey told himself quietly as he balled his hands into painful fists. This was another technique that Nightwing had taught him, had he ever start to lose himself again, to remind himself of who he was, the difference - the drawn line between Joseph Wilson and the villains that haunted him.

Suddenly, the voices all started cackling maniacally, and it all came back to Joey. The memories all flashed by him in an instant, and he was sent sprawling to the ground, outrightly wailing into his hands.

A mere child, a seventeen year old Jericho was possessed by the spirits of Azarath, and he watched with a painful cry as his own father stabbed him dead to prevent the desecration of the Earth. Joey died, he was legally dead for so long before he suddenly just wasn't. He woke up, crawling his way out of the Lazarus Pit, and eventually fighting his way past Ra's Al Ghul, who had planned to turn Jericho into his own undead weapon. Both the spirits of Azarath and the Lazarus Pit left deep, incurable scars in his body and mind. The voices of every man and woman and villain Jericho had ever possessed could suddenly speak, and they tormented him day in and day out.

Jericho spent the next two years in and out of several different asylums, all scrambling to understand his illness and treat him. Most weren't as kind as they told everyone, and Joey now lived in fear of doctors or needles or even the word 'test'. While inside, the practitioners came to the realization that the Lazarus Pit had affected Joseph's body, and he was now much more resilient than before. He was nowhere near invincible, but it would take much more than a single bullet to the head to kill him now.

Once Elliot found out of this sick treatment, he nearly mass murdered the entire area of Arkham Asylum.

Elliot, not Kyd Wykkyd, no, that boy was gone. After Joey's accident, Elliot hung up his cape for good. He begged and pleaded with Raven to help him, and she couldn't bring herself to turn away the mourning boy that found himself suicidal and lost as the loss of the love of his life. Joey's main wish for Elliot was always that he do better for himself, so that's what Raven helped Elliot do. They meditated together nearly every day until Elliot had complete control over his abilities. Once Raven deemed Elliot no longer a criminal, but an inside asset to the Titans, Raven gave him his first mission: be the bodyguard and protector of a less than stable ex-Titan, that was now travelling the world and speaking to other people of illness, trying to get them out of war zones or unstable homes or wherever they may be. Initially, Elliot was wary, until he realized who this 'unstable ex-Titan' was. His previously presumed dead lover, Joseph.

Joey's screaming slowly died down to a whimper, and the more he thought of Elliot, the more he calmed down. He remembered where he was - he was in a room on a train, headed back to Tibet after having traveled so a remote town to speak to the people there of his experience and, hopefully, get them to leave the war zone the town had become.

Tibet, Joey thought of his home as well. After everything was over, Elliot and Joseph made an almost immediate decision to make a home for themselves in Tibet. It was the quietest, and it was the closest thing to home Joey had ever known.

Joey chuckled among his whimpers, thinking of memories from their home. It had taken Elliot so long to get used to how genuinely nice the people of Tibet were, all of them grateful for the pale, red eyed "spirit" that had fought off a gang of terrorists from their home. Elliot tried so hard to explain that he was as human as them, but they continued to thank him for his 'sacrifice'.

"Joseph! I heard you scream!" Elliot said, busting down the door with a loud bang, completely ignoring the groaning from the two guards that now lay unconscious on the floor from Elliot's having to fight them off to get to Joey.

Joey's hands started shaking, and he looked up at Elliot with tears in his eyes. Elliot's heart broke at the tears, reminding him too much of just how much pain this now twenty one year old man had been through.

Joey no longer cared for his appearance as much as before. His hair was fluffy and grown out, and it was an honest miracle the days that Elliot could get him to put a hair tie or something in so that it wasn't just everywhere. It fell to at least two inches below Joey's shoulders now. Joey's eyes were sad now, wherever he went. The only times they weren't sad and melancholy was when Joey was looking at Elliot, as embarrassing as that was for the pale boy. Whenever Joey was hurt, bruised, or cut, he took no regard to fixing himself. Most times he wouldn't even be aware of any bruising until days later, when Elliot noticed and shrieked at the sight.

Elliot brought the boy into his arms, shushing him and raking a hand through his long blonde hair, letting him sob into Elliot's shoulder.

"...What am I anymore, Elliot? I'm...I'm broken, useless. I'm no hero. I'm nobody's hero anymore. The Titans don't want me anymore, my father doesn't want me anymore...soon, you won't want me-" Joseph rambled, muffled among his crying.

Elliot grabbed the sides of Joey's face and forced the man to look up at him.

"I will never not want you, alright?" Elliot said with a powerful tone, making sure to emphasize the fact that rubbing his fingers down Joey's face, Joey feeling the cold sting of a gold band contrast with the warmth of Elliot's fingers. It was the same, matching gold band Joey had on his own hand, their wedding rings.

"...You're my hero, okay? Is...Is that enough?" Elliot whispered, laying his forehead on Joseph's.

"...I was nothing, but you picked me up. You made me a better person, you changed my life. You'll always be my hero. I don't care what anyone else says. You're not broken, not crazy. You're as much of a superhero now as you were five years ago." Elliot demanded with a determined look in his eye.

Joey smiled, chuckled, and swallowed back one last sob, feeling infinitely better in Elliot's arms.

Joey wrapped his arms around Elliot's neck, pulling him in for a tight hug, both of them whispering 'I love you's until Joey could breathe again.


	5. Jet Pack Blues (Klarion/Kyd Wykkyd)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a different twist on the Klarion/Kyd Wykkyd thing I have going in my other fic "Diversity". The song is "Jet Pack Blues" by Fall Out Boy.

Klarion didn't know what he was expecting, to be honest. Maybe a note, maybe sign, maybe something to actually make him aware before now.

Klarion knew he was a jackass to Elliot. He knew and he made the conscious effort to continue being a jackass to Elliot. So why was his heart aching so badly at the sight of Elliot holding hands with a boy he'd seen slap him earlier?

Elliot was a pawn - that's what Klarion kept telling himself. Elliot was another person to play with while he continued to wreak havoc on Earth. But then, it hurt so, so much when his pawn walked away from him.

Klarion often left Elliot for elongated periods of time - whether it be because of business with the light, other dimensional protocols, or even just his true home beckoning. But Elliot was always still there. Elliot, above everything, was Klarion's loyal lapdog. No matter how long Klarion was gone, no matter how badly he'd bruised Elliot before he'd left, Elliot was always still there, waiting for him like the impish fool he was.

But one day, Elliot wasn't there. Elliot was gone. Klarion had assumed for a long while that perhaps Elliot were busy. Klarions made sure to let Elliot know his place when he became un-busy, and to not just desert Klarion again.

But Klarion was met with the sight of Elliot kissing another boy. The boy was taller and stronger than Klarion in physical appearance, the boy was much prettier as well.

When Klarion was first hit with the realization, he felt something he'd never felt in his life. Remorse, guilt, regret - it all came hurtling at him at once.

Elliot had left Klarion, he'd abandoned him for someone better. That's what Klarion thought at first, anyways. As Klarion continued watching Elliot, he realized that every single person Elliot slept with was abusive or cruel in some way. Klarion felt some part of that might've been his fault.

So Klarion sat disguised in a coffee shop, broodily staring down Elliot, who was standing outside in the rain and waiting for someone, yet to notice Klarion's presence. Klarion's heart ached, his entire body ached, at the sight of Elliot. Klarion hated to admit it, but Elliot looked good. He was doing so much better without Klarion in his life. Elliot's hair was flattened by the rain, and Klarion could see his bright eyes clear as day.

And Elliot was wearing that black coat. It was the same coat he normally wore when he'd call Klarion to ask when he'd return. Elliot would always look at him with desperate loneliness in his eyes, and Klarion would spit some insult at him that made Elliot crumple in on himself. At the time, it'd made Klarion feel better, but not now.

Klarion closed his eyes and remembered the times when Elliot had made him feel better. When Klarion was on Earth with Elliot, there were small, sparse moments when Klarion wasn't a lord of chaos, but a teenager just smiling and screwing around with his boyfriend.

Klarion smiled as he remembered how Elliot would nearly melt anytime Klarion taught him something new about the Earth, and how Elliot would try to hug him tight. Klarion's smile broke as he remembered how he would throw Elliot off of him, gagging at the physical affection.

The more Klarion thought about it, the more he pushed his thoughts away. They never made any sense to him. But for right now, Klarion would rather suffer in his own mind than open his eyes and face the harsh truth of Elliot moving on without him. Klarion always stopped upon one thought.

Did Klarion ever really love Elliot? To those looking in from the outside of the relationship, the answer was a sharp and easy no. Elliot loved Klarion, of course. Elliot loved him more than anything, and gave Klarion his everything. Klarion convinced himself time and time again that, no, he never loved Elliot, he had only used Elliot as a toy because Klarion had grown lonely in his power. But then, there were those moments that stood to question that decree.

What about that time Elliot fell asleep on Klarion's arm? Did Klarion love him then? Klarion definitely felt like he did. Klarion didn't wake up Elliot with a shake or throw him off like he normally did, and instead he felt himself transfixed by the calm, open expression of Elliot's sleeping face. With his ebony spiking every which way and his pointed ears downturned in a calm manner, Klarion couldn't bring himself to disturb him.

That wasn't the only time either. What about the time Elliot patched Klarion up after a fight with Dr. Fate, when Klarion found that the cool sensation of Elliot's fingertips were addictive? Or the time he'd spent all day searching for Teekl, only to find the mangy cat purring and asleep on top of Elliot?

Klarion never wanted to be alone, he never wanted to feel like this. But now, because of his rash, harsh decisions to ruin Elliot, he felt more alone now than ever. Even Teekl was enraged at Klarion for forcing Elliot to resort to leaving. Klarion's mind hurt from his existential thinking, and his heart hurt from his withering betrayal.

Klarion opened his eyes, and Elliot was already walking halfway across the street hand in hand with another generic thug type man who would no doubt abuse him.


End file.
